Expecting
by PlayerPiano
Summary: Victoria has a happy marriage, three lovely children, and the best life she could hope for. But one day she realizes she might be...expecting. Pure Victoria-centric fluff!


**Author's Note:  
**I desperately needed fluff after writing "Civil Service." Particularly Victoria-centric fluff. And I just can't get up the gumption to jump back into death with "Wild Night and a New Road." So here's a fluffy little story, for the sake of my mental and emotional health. Enjoy!

**Expecting**

Victoria first noticed something was amiss on the morning of her youngest daughter's birthday. Anne was turning five-how time flew!-and her request for a special luncheon had been potted shrimp. Victoria, better with design than cooking, was decorating a small cake with some early flowers from the garden. Mrs. Reed, the family cook and housekeeper, was putting together the potted shrimp. The moment the can of shrimp had been opened, a foul odor hit Victoria's nostrils full force from across the kitchen. It was bad enough that she could taste it in the back of her throat.

"Are you certain that the shrimp is all right, Mrs. Reed?" Victoria asked, coming over to investigate. The shrimp _looked _all right. But that _smell_. Delicately she put her fingers to her nose and took a step away. "They don't seem a little...off?"

Mrs. Reed shrugged, bent, took a whiff, and shrugged again. "No, ma'am," she said. "They seem all right to me." And the cook proceeded to open a few more cans and put the lot into a large bowl on the kitchen's scuffed work table. The odor was overpowering. Victoria tried to concentrate on her cake, but it was no use. When her stomach began to heave alarmingly, she braced herself against the edge of the counter and waited for it to pass.

Victoria only managed about five more minutes before she had to leave the room, lest she be ill all over the kitchen. Once safely in the dining room, Victoria leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes. She put a hand to her middle. The heaving had subsided, but the force of it had left her shaky and weak-kneed. With the back of her hand she wiped a bit of cold perspiration from her forehead.

_How odd,_ she thought, and took a few deep breaths. Victoria hoped the family survived eating the potted shrimp. It would be a terrible shame if something had gone wrong at the cannery, that was certain. Bad for business. And for the community's well-being. Victoria kept her hand on her still slightly rolling stomach. Only now did she notice she still had a dishcloth in her hand. She used it to dab at her face.

From the drive came the sound of the carriage, and Victoria looked up in time to see their plain two-seater pull up, Mr. Reed in the driver's seat and Victor in back. A glance at the clock on the mantel confirmed that she was running late. At least the table was laid already. Victoria smoothed her hair, bit back a sudden rush of nausea, and went to meet Victor at the front door before she called the children to lunch.

0—0

Later that evening Victoria sat with the children in the nursery. The large window was thrown open to catch the May breeze, swiftly cooling now that darkness was falling. Anne had had a lovely birthday. The cake had gone over splendidly. Everyone had indeed survived the potted shrimp, enjoyed it even—except for Victoria. She had found herself quite unable to even take a bite. Dinner had not been much better. The pork had smelled all wrong. All she'd been able to manage was a bite or two of bread. Oh, she did hope she wasn't coming down with something. Now that she was in her less restrictive nightdress and robe, and had been relaxing, she felt much better.

Victoria loved the early evenings in the nursery with her daughters. They always spent the better part of an hour before the girls' bedtime together, all in their nightgowns and slippers. Tonight Victoria sat in the soft old armchair by the fireplace, the very one she'd sat in to nurse them when they'd been babies. A warm feeling came over her at the memory.

Anne, small and pale and dark-haired, sat in Victoria's lap, slowly and carefully turning the pages of the book Victor had given her for a birthday gift. It was an illustrated guide to birds and animals, lavishly illustrated and with a handsome green cover. Anne couldn't quite read it yet, but the pictures were lovely. Victor had been as excited to give the gift as Anne had been to receive it.

The older girls, Lydia and Catherine, were also gathered about to look at the book. Lydia, a very tall seven-year-old who looked more uncannily like her father with every passing day, leaned against one side of the chair. Every now and again she'd reach over Anne to point out a certain picture, or to read aloud a bit of the explanatory text. Anne would nod and smile, enlightened and pleased by her older sister's attention.

On Victoria's other side cuddled Catherine, who had grown into a very plump and pretty little six year old. Victoria would never, _ever, _admit it out loud, but Catherine was going to be the family beauty. She could tell. Tonight Catherine was in one of her rare quiet moods, perched as best as she could on the soft armrest and resting her cheek against Victoria's shoulder. Once every few pages she would coo over a certain illustration, but she was otherwise sleepy and reflective. Every now and again, as Liddie read a bit to them and Anne turned the pages, Victoria would reach up a hand and pet Catherine's blonde hair, and they'd share a little smile.

Victoria, sitting there in the nursery with her children, children she had made and borne and cared for, was absolutely overcome with love. The feeling was like nothing else in the world, different from and more intense, somehow, than her love for Victor. Sometimes Victoria felt she had been born for moments such as these, when the children were content and pleased with one another, and were close to her. Here was somewhere Victoria had always dreamed she'd be, ever since she was a girl herself, though she'd never quite allowed herself to fully believe it would happen. Lovely daughters all about her, in a cozy house of her own, spending her days with a husband who was her true love. It was important, Victoria had realized, to always take time to be grateful for life. Particularly such a very good one as hers. Not everyone could be so lucky.

Victoria's gaze went to the mantelpiece, where her own gift to Anne sat in its little frame. Victoria had swelled with a certain pleasurable pride when Anne had given it such a place of honor in the nursery.

The gift she'd made was a bit of embroidery, a piece Victoria had worked on secretly for months. At first Victoria had only thought of a butterfly because Anne loved them so. As she'd worked her needle, though, she'd realized she was creating a stylized creature, one which didn't quite seem real. She'd carefully and lovingly rendered it every shade of blue she had been able to lay hands on.

When at last it was finished, Victoria had been both pleased and melancholy. Someday Anne might know that her gift was a commemoration of sorts. A reminder of the woman who had given up something very important to her so that this nursery, this moment, this life, could exist. A woman who should have had the chance to sit where Victoria was. Victoria always tried to enjoy these moments enough for the both of them.

Now, though, Victoria simply held her daughter a little tighter. The breeze smelled sweet and mingled with the clean smell of Anne's hair. Catherine was warm beside her, and Liddie's easy narration became a soothing bit of sound. Victoria's heart felt fit to swell and burst, so full of emotion was she. Warm and pleased, she felt her eyelids begin to grow heavy. A feeling of profound peace, or perhaps just fatigue, filled her bones, and she decided to close her eyes for just a moment.

The next thing she knew, there was a feathery little touch on her cheek. With difficulty Victoria brought herself awake, and fluttered open her eyes. She found herself looking at Victor, who knelt before her, stroking her face to wake her up. Lydia was beside him, and both of them were giving her identical affectionate grins. Bleary, Victoria ran a hand over her face. She was still in the nursery chair. The fire had burned down and the room was quite dark. The window had been shut, though the chill hung in the room.

"Goodness," she managed, her voice croaky with tiredness. Victor just grinned that same grin and took his hand from her face. He was in his dressing gown and pajamas. It must be quite late. She sat up a bit more and rubbed her eyes. She felt sluggish, and a little stiff in the neck.

"You've been asleep for ages," whispered Lydia, reaching to pat her hand. "I sent Anne and Catherine to bed for you."

"Thank you, dear," said Victoria. She leaned to press her lips against Liddie's forehead. "That was good of you. You'd best get to bed yourself, now."

Lydia wished her goodnight, and then did as she was told. Victor followed to give her a proper tuck-in. By the time he returned to Victoria's chair, she needed to be roused again. So strange, to be so early in the night and so impossible to keep her eyes open...

"Come on, then," whispered Victor as he helped her up out of the chair. With a hand on her back he steered her into her bedroom. "You might be more comfortable here."

Glad she was already in her nightclothes, Victoria slipped into bed with a sigh. Victor climbed in beside her, edging his way over and wrapping his arms about her. Beneath the blankets he reached to caress her hip.

"Goodness," Victoria said again, her voice muffled by both her pillow and by sleepiness. She put a heavy hand on Victor's arm. She'd meant to return the caress, but she found herself clumsy with fatigue. "Of a sudden I'm exhausted. I've not been this tired since-"

Victoria stopped. She'd been thinking of how constantly bone-tired she'd been when she'd been carrying the children. _Carrying the children. _Could it be...? Her eyes popped open as she did some quick arithmetic. Victoria gasped. The shrimp, the nausea, the fatigue...Victoria had thought all of that was behind her. She'd not taken precautions of any sort, particularly not lately, as all evidence had seemed to suggest that Anne had been her last.

"It couldn't be," she murmured. The mattress moved and the pillow rustled as Victor made himself more comfortable. He patted her hip once more, affectionately.

"What, Victoria?" he asked, sounding near sleep.

"Nothing," Victoria lied. She rolled onto her back and put a hand to her lower abdomen, and wondered.

0—0

All the next morning Victoria debated. House call, or a trip into the village? When she'd awakened later than usual and no more rested, and then had been unable to bear the smell of her own soap in the basin, Victoria decided it was time to see Doctor Van Ekel, the family physician.

At the breakfast table, sipping her tea as best as she was able and trying to avoid looking at the grease atop the sausages, Victoria thought a trip into the village might be best. The more she considered, however, the worse that idea seemed. Everyone in town would see the carriage. Passerby would notice Mr. Reed outside the doctor, waiting for her. Villagers would see her go in and out. Gossip would begin immediately. Victoria put down her teacup. It tasted much too strong this morning.

_I do hope this doesn't mean a year without tea, _she thought glumly, staring into the dregs at the bottom of the cup. When she'd been carrying Catherine she'd been unable to stomach tea at all. Even the smell of it brewing had been enough to set her off. That had been a year of deprivation, indeed.

All around her were the sounds of the children and Victor contentedly breakfasting. The clink of silverware, a few murmured friendly bits of conversation, the purring of the cat curled up beneath Anne's chair as he waited for scraps to fall. All perfectly normal everyday sounds. Only Victoria knew that there might be a sixth person at the table. She had to suppress a little smile. Victoria rather liked having such a secret. It would be all hers for at least a little while longer.

0-0

In the end, Victoria decided a house call was safest. She'd sent the children to the garden under the watchful eye of Mrs. Reed, and had consulted with the doctor in her bedroom. Fitting, if not entirely usual or strictly polite. After all, it was the very room where the doctor had delivered all three of the girls.

"Congratulations, Mrs. Van Dort," said stout, elderly Dr. Van Ekel as he snapped shut his little black bag. "Your suspicions were quite right. You are indeed expecting."

"You're certain?" Victoria asked. Needlessly. She was already quite sure, deep down in that part of her she'd learned to trust. Although it was a bit of a thrill to know for certain, to hear it from someone else. Dr. Van Ekel nodded even as he began to write out the bill.

"Three months along or so, I would wager," said the doctor. With a flourish he tore the bill from his notebook and handed it to her. "Take care of yourself, now. We'll speak later. Again, Mrs. Van Dort, my congratulations."

After the doctor's departure Victoria spent quite a while in her chair by the window. It was much too early for her to be showing, but she put a gentle arm across her belly all the same. Another baby. Perhaps a boy. A son would be nice, but Victoria merely wished for a healthy infant. Doctor's bill still in her hand, she leaned her head back and stared out of the window, fancying she could already feel a newborn's sweet weight on her shoulder, milky breath on her face.

From her window Victoria could see the church. Beyond it, the cemetery. The slightly morbid poetry of staring at a graveyard while carrying the very beginnings of a new life was not lost on her. Such thoughts never were. The intricate, sad, hopeful, necessary ties between life and death were forever in the back of her mind. It was unavoidable, ever since her. The corpse bride.

Every time she'd carried a baby, from the terrifying and exciting first time to this unplanned happy surprise, Victoria thought of the dead bride. Not only because the threat of death, however minor, hung over Victoria every time she brought a new life into the world. But rather because Emily must have wanted children. Or at least expected them. Didn't every woman? How many glimmers of life had died with her? Now that Victoria was a wife of ten years, she appreciated how much life poor Emily had missed. Victoria imagined that the dead bride had been a lot like her-dreams of marriage went about as far as the altar, perhaps a kiss, and no further than that. But now Victoria knew about everything else. Wifehood and housekeeping, yes, but also lovemaking, carrying children, childbirth, motherhood. Creating a family. Things a living wife could provide. It was the most fulfilling and rewarding life Victoria could imagine herself having, and it filled her with sadness and regret that Emily had had that stolen from her.

So now, another pregnancy. Another new Van Dort, after all this time. A gift, of sorts, for Victoria to give Victor. She laughed a little, and put a hand to her face. Such sentimentality embarrassed her even though it was a private thought and she was alone. Victoria placed the bill on the table beside her chair and held her belly properly, in both hands. Already she fancied she could feel a little something, but it was most likely her imagination. Her body certainly took all this up again quite easily-rounded belly already, bodices which strained just a little...here she'd just thought she'd enjoyed one too many of Mrs. Reed's cakes.

Victoria sighed, and looked up at the sky. Today it was gray, as ever, but a light shade which could be mistaken for a sort of blue, if one looked very hard. _Well then, _she thought to her son or daughter, _We'll be seeing you soon. November, perhaps?_

The clock on the mantel chimed the hour. Victoria glanced out the window again in time to see the girls trooping back up toward the house. It would be time for lessons, now. Victoria wasn't entirely sure she could focus, but she would certainly try. Perhaps today was a good day to simply read aloud.

Caressing her belly once more, and smiling a private smile, Victoria made for the nursery to prepare for lessons.

0-0

It was just before dinner, a quiet moment in between Anne being put to bed and mealtime for the rest of them. Victoria had already changed into her dinner dress. She'd instructed Mrs. Reed to loosen her corset strings just a little, for comfort's sake. Happily this dress, newer, was not so very tight. She gave her reflection one last once-over, and went to the doorway which separated her bedroom from Victor's.

For a moment Victoria stood and regarded him as he finished changing into his dinner suit. Victor was in his shirtsleeves before the mirror. A rush of warmth filled her, and she touched her abdomen surreptitiously, lightly. Another child between them. It happened every day, of course, had for centuries and would for centuries more, but still Victoria felt there was a sort of magic to it. That their love for one another, properly expressed, gave them new lives. Victoria took a breath. Again, that sentimentality.

"The doctor came by today," Victoria said pleasantly and nonchalantly, once she'd greeted him. Victor looked over his shoulder at her as he finished knotting his tie.

"Everything all right?" he asked, immediately sounding worried. Victoria went to join him at the mirror and put a gentle hand on his elbow.

"Perfectly," she told him. For a moment she was quiet, looking at their reflections in the mirror. Which of them would this child take after? Both, like Anne? Clear family sides chosen, like Lydia and Catherine? Victoria moved her hand to Victor's back as he finished with his tie.

"Everything is perfectly fine," Victoria repeated. Silly as it was, she found herself suddenly shy. "I have news."

"Oh?" Victor said carefully, turning to her. Victoria looked up into his face. She reached and took his hands. Oh, his face. His eyes.

"Oh, Victor," she said, squeezing his fingers, "I'm going to have another baby."

Victor's eyes widened, and a wide smile suddenly broke over his face. His truly happy open-mouthed smile, the one she loved to see on his face. Victoria couldn't help smiling back.

"Well!" he said, bending to kiss her cheek. "Isn't that something! Lovely news, Victoria." He kissed her again, on the lips this time, and then stepped by her to retrieve his suit coat from where it waited on the valet.

Victoria, open-mouthed and a little hurt, stared at his back as he shrugged into his jacket and buttoned it up. _Isn't that something?_ That was _all?_ Where was the excitement and abject terror of when he'd heard about Lydia? The shock and disbelief of Catherine? The sweet sense of purpose that had come with Anne? The over-the-moon excitement of all three? One would think she'd told him she'd bought new parlor curtains instead of informing him she was carrying his child. Victoria knotted her fingers together and frowned.

"You don't seem surprised," Victoria said, letting the hurt be audible in her tone. Victor turned to her.

"Oh! Well," he fumbled, scratching the back of his neck, "I'm not. That is, I'm _happy_, of course...but not _surprised._ I mean, it was obvious. Er...wasn't it?"

Victoria looked at him closely. Victor wore the expression of a confused pupil who had been certain he'd managed to crack some difficult problem, and was waiting for the teacher's judgment.

"Was it?" Victoria asked in return, quite dumbfounded. Why, she'd only realized herself yesterday. She crossed her arms and waited.

"I thought so," Victor said, shrugging a little and sounding a bit uncomfortable. His explanation was matter-of-fact, but in a quiet rush. "For a few weeks, at least. I mean, you've been sleeping like the dead, I've not seen you eat anything but bread and tinned tomatoes, you've been warm as a furnace...and...well...You've looked..._nice_. Lately."

Victoria blinked. "Looked _nice_?" she repeated. Victor nodded, and she noticed his gaze settle briefly on her bosom. "Oh," she said, rather flattered despite herself.

"Congratulations on a good guess, I suppose," Victoria said, managing a small smile. Immediately Victor, all contrition, stepped over to her and wrapped his arms about her. Victoria rested her cheek against his chest, enjoying the feel of his embrace, his chin resting on her head.

"I _am _pleased," he told her, pulling her closer. "Thank you for telling me. When?"

"November," Victoria said into his jacket. "Give or take."

"You're feeling all right?"

"Yes."

For a long while they stood in the middle of Victor's bedroom, holding each other close. When they kissed, it was deeply, amorously. Victoria felt it all the way down to her toes.

"Shall we go down to dinner?" Victor said when they finally pulled apart. He have her hip an affectionate pat.

"Let's," Victoria replied. She hoped she would be able to stomach the menu she had put together at the beginning of the week.

Only as she and Victor were heading downstairs did she realize, funnily enough, that every course somehow involved tinned tomatoes.

**The End!**

**Author's Endnote: **Silly and trite, I know, but I hope you enjoyed it anyway!

From your pal PlayerPiano, who misses romance.


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